


Star Gazing

by camerasparring



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camerasparring/pseuds/camerasparring
Summary: Eddie and Richie take a moment after Eddie moves in.--Tiny ficlet request from Twitter.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108





	Star Gazing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stitchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchy/gifts).



> I'm ficlet spamming today, folks! Just a cute little ditty.

Eddie stares down at the swaths of grass and stone and frowns. 

Richie’s hand crooks toward him again.

“You’re not really expecting me to get down there with you, right?” 

Richie sighs, but his hand doesn’t fall. Eddie takes it. He shivers.

“C’mon, Spagheds, the night is beautiful, we’re alive, you’re here, let’s fuckin’ enjoy it,” Richie says. How the fuck is Eddie supposed to remain grumpy through _that_? 

The plane was uncomfortable and loud, his flight was delayed, Richie got caught in a meeting and couldn’t pick him up, the lawyer called him while he was on the way to Richie’s place to tell him Myra rejected his last set of settlement amendments and he pulled something in his back carrying his bags to Richie’s front door. 

Eddie doesn’t want to get down on the ground. 

“Eddie.” 

Richie’s voice is soft and searching. Eddie peers down to see his eyes are the same. 

Eddie gets down on the ground.

After Richie finally showed up and unlocked the door of his ridiculous house in Beverly Hills, he had hugged Eddie for almost a full five minutes. Then Richie carried all the bags in, tittering at Eddie to relax in the recliner while he took them upstairs. He ordered food in, dairy and gluten-free even though Eddie was trying to relax all his food rules. He made Eddie laugh and gripped at his shoulder and poured him a small glass of whiskey and teased him about coughing at his first sip, but left him alone when he finished the rest in one gulp. 

The least Eddie can do is get on the ground. 

Once Eddie stretches out against the stone (if it were on the grass, Richie be damned, he wouldn’t be down here, grass stains are a bitch, not to mention grass is pointless and _stupid_ ), the smattering of stars dull his panic. 

Why is star-gazing always better when you’re horizontal? Flat on your back like a kid, like when he was a kid, like when he was a kid with Richie and everything felt right and whole when he was with his friends, and now he is _again_. 

Eddie feels the tears prickling at his eyes.

Richie doesn’t let go of his hand. He also doesn’t talk for several minutes.

Eddie wonders if the vast sparkling of the universe up there is the only thing grand enough to quiet one Richie Tozier. 

“I didn’t ask how your flight was,” Richie says. Eddie grunts. Apparently not. 

“Horrible. The whole thing was horrible,” he sighs, squinting at what he thinks is part of the Little Dipper. Connects to the- wait. Is it more to the left? He tilts his head to suss it out when Richie’s fingers press hard into his.

“Well, you made it,” Richie says, quietly, and Eddie turns to look at him. They’re inches apart, fused by the hand, and Eddie wants to lean over and kiss him more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. 

And that’s the thing: _wanting_. He wants a new job. He wants to be with his friends. He wants to be with _Richie_. All the time, probably, which is kind of suffocating, but also kind of _great_ and that’s new, too. The rush of wanting. The rush of _want_. 

Richie’s palm is sweating against his and Eddie’s back is fucked up and the pollution in the city means they probably can’t see as many stars as they should be able to, but Eddie sinks into it like a warm bath. Sinks into Richie’s fevered stare, wide eyes and blown pupils and Eddie’s tired and ecstatic and grumpy and in love. 

So he closes the space between them. 

They haven’t talked about it, yet, but Eddie meant to. He means to. But Richie’s right _here_ and staring and holding his hand and making him try new things and letting him stay here with no expectations. 

It’s the best kiss of Eddie’s life. 

Richie pulls back, hand on Eddie’s cheek, holding him there, too, and Eddie wants to cry. 

He does, later, but for now he lets it all simmer out, spread through his limbs and his lips and his toes while Richie kisses him slowly, gently, happily sighing into his mouth. 

  
  



End file.
